Nine Circles
by UnderneathTheBunker
Summary: When Cas sends the boys to a small town in Oregon with one simple instruction. They discover that hell isn't just a spiritual condition. Sensitive themes.
1. Chapter 1

_**Warnings: I feel to give specific warnings would be to give away key plot points but I will say that some of the subject matter is historical, distressing and true. It should be obvious by the beginning of the first chapter what I'm taking about and I certainly don't want to dwell too much on specifics but some terrible stuff is in there. I would hate for anyone to feel that I'm making light of, or exploiting the horror that actually occurred and that is not my intention.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

_**Set early season 6.**_

**Nine Circles.**

_From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass,_

_Every nighte and alle,_

_To __Purgatory__ fire thou com'st at last;_

_And Christe receive thy saule._

_If ever thou gavest meat or drink,_

_Every nighte and alle,_

_The fire shall never make thee shrink;_

_And Christe receive thy saule._

_If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane,_

_Every nighte and alle,_

_The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;_

_And Christe receive thy saule._

_The Lykke Wake dirge (Anglo Saxon Hymm)_

**Prologue:**

Hell came to earth sometime in the summer. Adela Nathan was playing with her brother out in the front garden of their town house when the SS officers walked up to the door. She had watched as her mother and father had been dragged out and forced into a car. She and Freddie had run but his little legs wouldn't get him far. He was snatched up by one of the officers and carried screaming to the vehicle. She had co-operated with them walking meekly. She couldn't show Freddie how afraid she was.

They'd been put on a train, for days, and then another train. They finally got to their destination. It was outside the big iron gates that she and Freddie had been separated from their parents. She had quickly lifted Freddie up and clung to him. As the crowd swelled around her, herded by soldiers with guns, barking orders.

Then she had seen _him_. Standing by the gates high up on a platform in his white coat. His coat, the only clean thing that could be seen. Directing some of the new arrivals to the right and some to the left. He had turned and looked at her, _right_ at her. She felt sick. He had pointed to the right and she had been pushed over into that line.

She clung tighter to her brother. The man's look had told her something. Something awful. It had been appraising and blank. She could still feel the weight of Freddie, the feel of his trembling, dehydrated little body. They had never seen their parents again. They had gone straight to the gas chamber. She and Freddie to the children's block.

She never knew why she had been allowed to live. For the longest time she had wished that she had died with Mama and Papa. She had prayed for it.

"Der Weiße Engel" What what people called him. "The White Angel". About as far from the truth as it was possible to get. No angel would walk into that hell and do the things he did. Not even the angel of Death. Death was merciful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

Dean was fishing. The water was still, the birds were singing, he shut his eyes. This was the life. Here he could meditate without thoughts of his fucked up situation intruding.

No monsters, no Resurrected relatives. No unanswered questions burning at the back of his mind. Sam's strange distant manner...So different from how he _should_ be. But in some way that Dean couldn't define.

Of course the peace couldn't possibly last. A flutter of wings disturbed his reverie.

"Cas." He muttered. "Always good news when you show up in my dreams."

"You sound pleased."

God dammit if the bastard wasn't growing a sense of humour.

Dean frowned. "Couldn't you at least wait for me to wake up, just once?"

"This is urgent Dean." The Angel explained.

His eyes snapped open a second later, to find Cas standing beside his bed. Sam wasn't in his.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked immediately.

"He's already there, I just sent him."

"Where?"

"I need..." Cas paused, obviously finding it difficult. "I need a favor"

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "Oh yeah?" he asked suspiciously. Last time an angel wanted a favor from me it didn't turn out so well."

"I need you to go to Oregon." Cas stated.

Deans eyes widened, "What for Cas? I'm not sayin' yes to anything until I know what you..."

Castiel reached out to zap him. Dean dodged him and backed up against the headboard.

"No! No way Cas! Don't you even think about it, you son of a bi.."

"Dean!" Castiel interrupted him. "You'll want to do this, trust me, for once in your life you actually have a chance to _change_ something. Not just deal with the aftermath! The spiritual conditions are just right. You can make a difference this time! "

"To WHAT?" Yelled Dean, practically hyperventilating.

"Ask your brother." Cas replied. Quickly reaching out and Touching Dean's forehead...

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Anita Had been working one crisp Autumn day when two young men had approached the reception desk. They looked awkward, worried and a little confused. As though they weren't used to nice surroundings. the old woman was immediately suspicious. They looked as though they were casing the place. She let her hand wander to the phone, ready to call the police if they gave any trouble.

The shorter of the two approached her and smiled, an even ,white, American smile.

"Excuse me Ma'am," he said. "My name's Dean Dylan and this is my business associate Sam... Baez" He smirked slightly. "We'd like a twin room for the night?"

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"Dude! what the hell?"

Dean asked rhetorically as he paced the floor of the hotel room. Sam sat on the bed, He shrugged.

"So why are we here man?" Dean asked, turning to his brother. "The Lantern Guest House. Ludlow, Oregon?" he held up the brochure on the desk. "Why?"

"How should I know?" Sam replied, unfazed.

"Wait! Cas said you knew?"

"Well... I _don't_. He just said we had to _'Save a life_'. He mimicked Castiel's stern tone. "Then he zapped me, and here we are."

"Save a life?" Dean raised one eyebrow. "Whose life? He's dropped us here with no clue. Bastard had better show up soon or..." He trailed off. kicking the bed.

"I guess we'd better check out the town." Said Sam matter of factly. " Sooner we get this job done the sooner we can get back."

"You don't seem particularly bothered by this ." Dean said irritably.

Sam shrugged again. "It's our Job."

"See Sam, this is what I mean when I say you're different. Before you would have been ripping your hair over finding the person whose _life_ we were told to save by a freaking _Angel!_ Not all 'oh just another day at the office!' "

Sam stared at Dean for a long moment then turned and left the room. Leaving Dean standing there open mouthed. _Screw it!_ He thought, _its like hanging out with the Terminator. No scratch that, the Terminator could mimic a human being._

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The old woman from reception turned out to be the owner of the establishment. Nice old broad. She was small and skinny and had a slight accent Dean couldn't place. They were posing as journalists for a travel magazine. She suggested they visit various tourist attractions.

"The canyon is lovely this time of year, and there are a lot of historical houses in town."

"Haunted?" Dean asked with a smile.

"Oh of course!" She laughed.

Dean scratched his neck and looked over his shoulder to where Sam stood by the door, on the phone, probably to Samuel. He was starting to resent the fact that he had to do all the meet and greet stuff while Sam got to be all business. He turned back to the old lady.

"Any in particular?" He asked her.

"Oh... Well there the Harlan place, up on the hill. I think they do tours some days, a family lives there though. A married couple and their daughter.

"Thanks ma'am!" He flashed her a grin before he left.

Anita forgot about any misgiving's she'd had. Not because of the man's looks, which were notable. But because that smile didn't reach his eyes.

She hadn't seen eyes like that in a long, long time. Eyes that knew a level of suffering unimaginable to anyone who hadn't experienced it themselves. Tortured.

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The Harlan house turned out to be a red herring. Sure their were ghosts galore. The EMF had gone crazy the second they'd walked in, but none of them were causing trouble. In fact the Harlen ghosts were keeping the family solvent. They were one of the reasons people visited the draughty old mansion in the first place.

So it was off to the library for some fruitless research. for Dean and back to the hotel to surf the web for Sam. It wasn't long before Dean called. Sam flicked open his Cell.

"Yeah?"

_"Anything?"_

"Sweet FA"

_"Dammit! What the hell does that feathery bastard want from us? You'd think if this person was important enough for the Angels to take an interest in he could have briefed us!"_

"Yeah."

Dean sighed at the other end of the line. He was growing tried of his brother's monosyllabic answers.

_"I'm heading back now. Maybe we'll get more light on this tomorrow."_

"Ok see you soon." Sam hung up. He turned back to the laptop, rubbing is eyes, wondering weather he should call Samuel or Bobby again. Neither of them had any leads in Ludlow. In fact very little of anything seemed to happen in Ludlow. _Fucking Angels._

He lay back on the bed and rested his eyes. He must have drifted off, when he opened his eyes and looked at the clock again about 20 minutes had passed.

He shook himself awake and was about to dial Bobby when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. The door was open._ Huh... I though I'd closed it._ He went to shut it and suddenly froze to the spot.

Standing in the hallway was a small boy... Very small, not older than three. He had lots of curly brown hair and was wearing short pants and a button up coat like they used to wear in the 30s.

Sam got down on his haunches, and smiled at the little ghost.

''Hey little guy!" he said softly. Wishing Dean were there. He was better with kids.

The child whimpered and his image flickered slightly. He looked frightened.

_"Mama."_ He said, looking at Sam with tears in his eyes.

Sam moved a little closer. 'You want your Mommy? What's your name?'

_"Ich möchte meine Schwester."_ the child whimpered. Then flickered out of sight.

"What the hell?"

Sam looked up to see Dean standing in the hallway. Looking like he'd just been bitch slapped.

"You saw that?" asked Sam.

"Yeah...Wh...What did he say Sammy? Was that German?"

"Yeah." Sam stood up and pinched the bridge of his nose. " 'Ich möchte meine Schwester.' 'I want my sister.' "

Dean smirked "Nerd."

"What? I took German in school!" Sam replied irritably.

"So..." Said Dean, Smiling. "Looks like tomorrow we're going to be checking out the history of the Lantern Guest House Hotel!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2.**

_Dean dreamed that night. Smoke, and ash. It swirled around him, it was so cold. There was a crowd of people, shuddering , weeping , naked, their heads shaved, he was jostled in the middle, crushed from all sides, their bones pressing into his naked flesh. He screamed, but couldn't be heard above the moaning and choking around him. Then the crowd stilled and parted. A man stood before them,The bodies moved aside for him and he walked slowly towards Dean. He was tall, and dark, with a strong jaw, He wore a white coat. _

_The man stopped, right in front of him. Too close. He leaned forward and grabbed the back of Dean's head when he tried to back away. The man's eyes were inches from his. Then they changed and turned smokey grey._

_"Hello Dean." he said in familiar voice. biting off his words. "So __**nice**__ to have you back again darling'." He sneered, closing the distance between them._

Dean jolted awake, upright in bed. He sat there with his hands over his mouth. Had he screamed? he looked over at his brother, sleeping peacefully. Obviously not.

What gave? Three years later he was still dreaming about Allistair. Memories still came knocking, just as raw and hurtful now as they had been then. It had been a while. At Lisa's , he supposed, he'd been able to unwind a little and the dreams of hell had returned with a vengeance. Getting so intense that he and Lisa had seriously discussed getting shrinks involved. It was a stupid idea._ "Well doc I've been having these dreams about my vacation in hell."_ Of course Lisa didn't know the whole story. There were some things she didn't need to know about.

Sam on the other hand, who used to have nightmares at the drop of a hat was relatively fresh out of the pit and yet seemed to be sleeping like the dead.

_What happened to you Sam? _He watched his brother sleep for a while. Then lay back down. He wasn't going to sleep again that was for sure. The fucking bastard was dead, he reminded himself. Sam killed him. "Thank you." He whispered into the night. To the Sammy that he had known. Infuriating, and hopped up on demon blood though he may have been.

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The next morning they ate in the hotel dining room. It was late in the morning and due to the time of year there were only a few guest there. A young family, a middle aged couple and a pair of newlyweds. Dean, for once, wasn't hungry.

"_You_, not eat breakfast?"

"Not hungry."

"Seriously?"

'Leave it." Dean growled.

Sam shrugged and poured himself coffee. presently the old lady, Anita approached their table.

" Is everything all right for you gentlemen?''

"Great thanks!" Sam smiled at her disingenuously. "In fact we were wondering if we could stay another couple of nights? We've found so many interesting places in town..."

"Interesting! In Ludlow?" She sounded surprised.

"Oh sure!" Sam continued in his phoney voice, " the Mansion house was great! Lots of history here! This hotel for instance! How old is it?"

"Not very old." She replied with a smile.

"How long have you lived here?" Sam continued. "Your accent sounds..."

"You are, of course welcome to stay as many nights as you like," she said curtly, cutting him off. "At this time of year there aren't many bookings." She left the table abruptly.

Sam quirked an eyebrow.

"You see that?"

Dean looked up from his coffee. "Huh?"

"You see how quickly she made tracks when I asked about the hotel?" He said, looking after the old woman. "She seemed almost frightened."

"Well done Holmes." Muttered Dean. "Looks like it's the library for you today then."

"Why me?" asked Sam. You're just as capable of researching as I am, Why don't you get your ass to the library?"

"Because." Said Dean , yawning. "The old biddy likes me."

"Oh, that so?" Sam quipped.

"You bet. Besides I think your interrogation style delivery gave her the creeps."

"You think you can do better then be my guest." He said.

" Will do." Dean murmured sipping his coffee.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You ok?"

"Dean looked at him, surprised. The 'new' Sam wasn't one for caring and sharing.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason. You just seem... Distracted this morning."

"I'm fine! Just didn't sleep too well last night." He said curtly. "Now if you don't mind I'm gonna go dig up some dirt on Grandma. Enjoy your research."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hours later. Dean crept through the hotel, EMF in hand. He thought it would be a good idea to give it the once over and try and regain contact with the boy again before talking to the old girl. So far there were no cold spots, no movement on the needle, no sign of him.

He walked up and down the hallway outside their room, hoping the little guy would re appear. "I want my sister." It sounded ominous. God he hated when it was kids.

"Cas." he whispered to himself. "What do you want from me?"

Just then there was some movement from the needle, a slight nudge, he stopped dead and held his breath.

"Hello?" He said to the thin air. "Anyone there?...Guten Tag?"

"Hello?" Said a voice behind him.

Dean jumped out of his skin and spun on his heel, to find the old woman standing in the hall behind him, carrying a covered tray.

"Sorry to startle you!" she exclaimed. "May I help you with anything?"

"N... No! No thanks I was just... I thought I heard something... So... I was out in the hallway!" He explained with a sheepish grin, hiding the EMF in his pocket.

She didn't look convinced . "Probably one of the other guests." She said. " I bought you a snack." She nodded at the tray." I noticed you didn't eat anything this morning. I don't want to presume, but I hate to see people go hungry."

"Oh!" Dean was taken aback. "Um... Thank you."

"I was going to leave it in your room.' She explained awkwardly. I thought you and your partner had gone out.

"Um... He did... I... I'm not feeling great."

"Oh no! You should rest then!" She exclaimed, suddenly concerned. She laid the tray down on a side table by the wall. "I'll leave you in peace."

"No. It's fine really." Dean replied. "Actually I wanted to ask you something... For the article."

"The article?"

"Yeah, you know, the one were writing about Ludlow? We'd like a little background on the hotel. We always do a short profile on the places we stay."

"Why don't you join me in the kitchen and I'll tell you about it while I start on dinner?" She suggested. "Bring the tray with you , you can eat there."

_So much for Sammy's theory._ He thought as he followed the old woman down the stairs. _She seems pretty happy to talk about the hotel to me._

Halfway down the staircase the tray was almost knocked out of Dean's hands by three small children who raced past him, pushing each other aside in a bid to be first upstairs. Knocking Anita into the railing as they went.

"Jack! Larkin! Gerry!" Cried an exhausted, red faced girl who slumped on the railing at the foot of the stairs, she couldn't have been more than fourteen. 'Wait for me!" "Remember what your mommy said about running off!_ Guys_?" She croaked, her throat horse from hours of yelling.

The kids either didn't hear her or didn't want to hear her and raced down the corridor shrieking, making the floor shake.

Dean turned indignantly and, using John Winchester's patented drill sergeant bellow, yelled:

"HEY!"

Three set of feet skidded to a halt and three blonde heads turned in astonishment.

"LISTEN TO YOUR DAMN BABY-SITTER!" He told them. Three mouths dropped open. He nodded at the girl, who looked a little shocked herself, then smiled, mouthing "thank you" as she passed them and walked over to the , now quiet, children.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Anita chuckled as she stirred the pot of soup on the stove. She had a chef for the hotel but liked to make her own meals.

"That was quite an impressive yell."

"Sorry about that." He mumbled. "I felt bad for the kid sitting them."

"April. She's a girl from town. They all make their extra pocket money baby-sitting here." Explained Anita. "She's used to it."

Dean nodded, munching another sandwich. She placed a bowl of hot soup in front of him. _Hey!_, he thought _Having a grandma must be awesome!_

"You must have children of your own." Anita said. with a smile, "That kind of volume only comes with practice."

"Well... Kind of. My girlfriend has a kid."

"How old?"

"He's twelve."

"Have you been together long?" Anita asked

"About a year. What about you? You have any children?" He asked, steering the conversation away from himself.

"No... No My late husband, Simon, had a daughter from a previous marriage,She lives in Salem. I couldn't have children."

"I'm sorry."

Anita shrugged. "That's how the cookie crumbles. We married late anyway. He's the one who built this place."

'Wait... He _built_ a hotel?"

"Well, he and team of workmen, they put it up in the early 50s, he would have been in his 20s at the time. He left home, went to the city to work and came back here to retire. Bought the house he'd built with his own hands."

"That when he met you?"

She smiled, a dreamy look in her eyes. "I was running a cafe, long gone now, but he came in one day, left his glasses..." She stopped, pressed her fist to her mouth and shut her eyes. Dean start to get up..

"Hey... Sorry! If you'd rather not talk about it..."

"No!" She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "It's just... He only died two months ago. It's till kind of fresh."

"I'm so sorry." Dean murmured awkwardly. Wishing he hadn't asked, but knowing he had to press her a little more.

"Did he..." He bit his lip, trying to choose his words so that he wouldn't look like a total psycho. "Did he pass away here?"

"In Ludlow?" Yes here in the hotel in fact, he had cancer. They wanted me to put him in a hospice but I can't stand those places, I couldn't do it." She shook her head.

"My family died." He said suddenly.

He didn't know where the admission came from. Sympathy? Guilt for making her cry? The need to say it out loud? Anita's head snapped towards him, She stared at him. he didn't know what else to say. So he shrugged.

It was the truth. They had. Some of them more than once.

She passed him a spoon, and sat down to eat in silence.

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"So her husband's Name was Simon Gatt. He built the hotel in the 40s. My guess is he's tied to the place somehow."

Dean explained to Sam, who sat at the table concentrating on the laptop. His trip to the library having proved fruitless.

"And the little boy?" He asked "Their kid maybe?"

"They didn't have any, Simon had a grown up daughter in Salem though."

"He could have been a guest here?" Said Sam. I mean over 50 years a hotel's got to have a death or two? Did you ask her?"

"No Sammy. If you want to go get the intel, be my guest. I'm not making any more old ladies cry today."

"Dean!" Sam rolled his eyes. "This is important! Are you really more worried about hurting someone's feelings than saving someone's life?"

"Sam you weren't there so just stow it! I'll find out what we need to know... _Without _being a dick about it ok?"

Sam bitchfaced at him, _just like old times_. "I just wish you'd..." He stopped talking and looked Over Dean's shoulder.

"Sam?" Dean whispered. "Please tell me there's nothing behind me." Dean turned slowly, there, standing in the corner was the little boy.

He was shivering, his little knees knocked together. Thinner than the last time he'd appeared, with dark rings under his eyes. His nose was running. The temperature in the room began to drop.

'Hey" Whispered Dean. "Speak German to him Sammy!"

Sam leaned forward. "Wie heisst du?" He asked softly. The little boy shook his head sadly. Tears started running down his cheeks. He cowered in the corner. Flickering. Hs lips moved but no sound came out as though someone had pressed the 'mute' button.

_First time I've seen a ghost more afraid than the living_. Thought Dean.

"Dean" Sam whispered. "L... Look at his jacket."

The kid was zoning in and out of reality, but Dean saw it, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. Stitched onto the boy's lapel was a yellow star.

He disappeared. Leaving the brothers staring at the corner, their breath visible in the coldness of the room.

"Oh God." Dean said softly and sat down on one of the beds. His head pounding. "Was that what I think it was?"

Sam nodded, still looking at the empty corner. "you know what this means don't you?" He said.

"What?"

"He wasn't here in the 50s and he didn't die in this hotel."

Dean nodded and put his hand over his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Dean looked over Sam's shoulder at his father's journal.

"So we summon him. Then what?"

Sam shrugged "We bind him somehow and question him."

"Question him? A terrified, non english speaking ghost from world war two?"

"Yeah?" Sam cocked his head like a confused collie. "What's the problem? "

''You saw him Sam! How exactly are you planning on getting information from this kid?"

'' There are a couple of things we could do, we could use salt and iron to persuade him to... "

Dean put up a hand and Sam stopped talking." Wait! Persuade him? Sam I know you said you were a little 'rough around the edges' but are you _seriously _suggesting we torture a baby?"

Sam looked, honest to god,_ puzzled_ by his brothers reaction.

"It's not a baby Dean! It's already dead." He said reasonably.

Dean felt sick, he thought back to how_ he'd _behaved fresh out of the pit, he'd been an ass a lot of the time, a drunk, he'd over reacted to stuff a lot... But he'd _reacted_. He remembered the girl hiding in the drywall. The sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of what her life had been like. He'd_ felt _for her god damn it!

He looked sadly at his brother, who looked back at him , brow furrowed, wondering why he was upset.

He remembered Sam had been depressed for _days_ after that hunt. Sam was always depressed when the human race let him down.

The guy sitting in front of him didn't feel that way.

_It's not him._

The room swam for a moment. He had to get away.

Dean turned and left the room , slamming the door behind him. He ran down the hallway and through the lobby. Outside and into the garden.

_Its not him! Not my brother! _Said the niggling voice in the back of his mind. He was hyperventilating, he put his hands on his knees and tried to breathe.

"Dean?"

He started, Anita had appeared behind him.

''Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, are you all right?"

He shook his head. He couldn't fake it, not right now.

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Sam sighed, got up and followed Dean. He wished he knew what the hell had gotten into him. Had he always been this unpredictable? He needed to go into town and get some supplies for the summoning ritual. It would give Dean time to cool off too.

He stalked around the small lobby. A few couples were laughing and talking near the door. Sam tried to avoid them. He saw the kids from earlier with their parents. A big man and a small woman. The youngest was looking at him from behind his father's legs, he didn't want the kid to draw the man's attention to him. So he slipped around the corner to the empty reception desk. Anita was busy somewhere else and the desk was unattended. He stole a look at some of the papers that littered the desk, a book caught his eye.

He picked it up and opened it. Scanned the first few pages, Then smiled.

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Dean wasn't sure how he'd gotten inside, but he was now sitting at the kitchen table, there was a glass of something in front of him. He drank it, whiskey. _Score one Anita!_

"You want to talk about it?" Asked Anita. Pouring him another.

''It's nothing.''

''It doesn't look like nothing.''

'' I... Just fought with my brother, it really is nothing.''

'' I thought he was your business partner''

'' Er...'' Dean fumbled, _moron! how could you slip up like that._ ''He is. Both...Family business.''

''That so?''

He couldn't read her expression . _Shit! _He hoped he hadn't blown it.

'' We used to live in each others pockets, since we were kids really. He... Ah, we were separated for a year and just got back together a week ago... Things... Aren't the same any more.'' He explained hurriedly, wondering why the hell he was spilling his guts to a stranger.

''You were close before.'' She said, sitting opposite him. It wasn't a question.

''You have no idea, It was probably unhealthy actually.''

''Love is never unhealthy, Situations are unhealthy.'' She said categorically. ''Is he your younger brother?''

''Yeah , four years.''

''I'd have guessed more.''

Dean smiled ruefully. "Ouch! I don't look that much older do I?"

''No. More your manner with him. You're protective. I saw it at breakfast. He's clearly having a hard time with people, and you step in so that he doesn't have to talk to them.''

_Huh hadn't thought of it like that_. "Sweetheart, I didn't do sutch a bang up job of protecting him. I mean, I tried, before but... I guess he felt he needed to make his own decisions and... I let him... He's been through hell because of that."

''You blame yourself?" She asked. Dean nodded. He jumped when she reached across the table and took his hand.

" When things happen you can't control, sometimes you blame yourself so that it makes sense. So that you have some illusion of control." She said softly.

" You seem to know what you're talking about.'' Dean murmured, unable to look her in the eye.

''I do.'' She said. ''I know what it's like to be responsible for someone's safety. But to have no control over what happens to them. Over the years, I've learned the psycho babble to explain it, but in the end the guilt never really goes away.''

''Do you have siblings?''

''I did once. Back in Germany, I had a baby brother.'' She said, her voice was steady but when she poured herself another drink , Her hands shook. ''Eight years younger than me.''

Dean tried to smile, to reassure her so she'd talk.

"Baby-sit much?"

"Oh believe you me, I was practically that boys mother. " She said, smiling to herself, a faraway look on her face. "I'd have done anything for him."

" Know _that_ feeling." He whispered.

He looked up from his drink. She was looking at him, her eyes shiny with tears.

" You don't know how lucky you are, you have him. He may be damaged but at least he's alive." She whispered.

"I take it you weren't so lucky?"

She shook her head. "He died in the war." She swallowed her whiskey. "When I was Eleven."

"I'm sorry."

She continued as though he hadn't spoken. "I don't know why, I guess It's my husband dying but I'm _feeling_ it again. My brother's death I mean. I had put it away, buried it for years and... " She swallowed back tears. " Now , out of the blue the grief is back. I... Sometimes I even think I _see_ him."

Dean froze. "See him?"

"I know, senile old woman right?" She laughed mirthlessly. "I used to see a lot of things, when I was younger, that weren't there. Shell shock. PTSD they call it now."

'From the war?" He asked, trying to probe without asking outright. She just nodded.

Dean patted her hand, he looked down at her arm, the sleeve had fallen back to her elbow. He took note of the faded number he saw there.

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Sam sat on a chair in the hallway outside room 137. He looked at the print on the wall, it was a ship. He wondered if it was a good picture or not. Art didn't move him like it used to.

Presently a girl in her early teens ascended the stars and skipped down the hallway. Her auburn pigtails bouncing. She knocked on the door. "Helooo?" She called. "Mr and Mrs Simmons? I'm here."

"They're downstairs." Sam said. The girl turned with a sharp cry. Slamming herself against the door.

"Jesus!" She gasped, her hands on her mouth.

"Don't be scared." Sam said, using what he hoped was his sweet, comforting expression. "I just want to talk to you April."

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Dean considered his options for a moment._ Tell her the truth, or play her._ He didn't know why but he was tempted to be honest with the old broad. He Saw something in her. Something he hadn't seen before. He knew, somehow that she'd understand.

He didn''t tell her, but he didn't question her either. He knew she was connected to the boy and he knew how. Fact was that a very large part of him just didn't want to know the story. Dean Winchester had enough horror to last him several lifetimes.

So he let her think she was crazy and said nothing at all. They sat in silence until the bell at reception rang and Anita left to attend the desk. At which point Dean departed for the library. He knew what to look for now.

Night came slowly to Ludlow, darkness dripping like ink over the treetops. The stars came out. Sam waited for is brother in their room. At about midnight he considered feigning sleep, but he'd had enough of that over the last week. Eventually he heard the door click and Dean entered the room. He swayed slightly. Drunk. He looked surprised to find Sam still up.

"Where have you been?" Asked Sam.

"Out, researching." Dean said. Eyeing Sam strangely. "Then I found a bar." He admitted. "I think I got a lead on our little ghost though." He said, flopping down on the bed.

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked. "What did you find?"

"Well... Our hostess came to the States as a refugee after the war. Changed her name, her real name is Adela Nathan. I'd probably have changed it too if I'd been her... Something safer." He zoned out for a moment. Staring at his feet.

"Dean!" Sam jolted him out of his daze 'Get on with it."

"Anyway..." He continued. "Adela was 15 years old when she was admitted to the country. She was part of a contingent of refugees that had been freed from Auchwitz." He rubbed his temples. "She had a brother Sam. A three year old brother. He didn't make it out. Pretty sure that's who we're dealing with."

"Do you have his name? We could use that to summon him."

"Summoning him won't achieve anything Sam."

"Wh... I don't get it? I thought we agreed..."

"We agreed nothing Sam! The Kid's three years old, he was probably starved to death in a concentration camp! I don't think there's anything he can tell us!" Dean snapped. "I didn't agree to anything!"

"Jesus Dean calm down. It was just a suggestion. What crawled up your ass anyway?"

" You want to know Sammy?" Dean slurred. "I've just been up all night finding information I got from a number on someone's arm! Some 11 year old girl's tattooed fucking arm!"

"So?" Sam frowned.

"So?" Dean repeated back to him. "SO Sammy! I'm not in the best mood, its not rocket science!"

"Well maybe this will put you in a better one." Sam smirked, throwing a navy notebook to Dean. Dean missed the catch and it landed on the floor. He picked it up and read the sticker on the front.

"Baby-sitting book?"

"Took it from reception." Sam said smugly. "It's a record of all the baby-sitters and which nights, and room numbers they were working."

Dean raised one eyebrow "And?"

"I found the link between the three dead girls." Sam replied.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4:**

Dean looked over Sam's shoulder at his father's journal.

"So we summon him. Then what?"

Sam shrugged "We bind him somehow and question him."

"Question him? A terrified, non english speaking ghost from world war two?"

"Yeah?" Sam cocked his head like a confused collie. "What's the problem? "

''You saw him Sam! How exactly are you planning on getting information from this kid?"

'' There are a couple of things we could do, we could use salt and iron to persuade him to... "

Dean put up a hand and Sam stopped talking." Wait! Persuade him? Sam I know you said you were a little 'rough around the edges' but are you _seriously _suggesting we torture a baby?"

Sam looked, honest to god,_ puzzled_ by his brothers reaction.

"It's not a baby Dean! It's already dead." He said reasonably.

Dean felt sick, he thought back to how_ he'd _behaved fresh out of the pit, he'd been an ass a lot of the time, a drunk, he'd over reacted to stuff a lot... But he'd _reacted_. He remembered the girl hiding in the drywall. The sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of what her life had been like. He'd_ felt _for her god damn it!

He looked sadly at his brother, who looked back at him , brow furrowed, wondering why he was upset.

He remembered Sam had been depressed for _days_ after that hunt. Sam was always depressed when the human race let him down.

The guy sitting in front of him didn't feel that way.

_It's not him._

The room swam for a moment. He had to get away.

Dean turned and left the room , slamming the door behind him. He ran down the hallway and through the lobby. Outside and into the garden.

_Its not him! Not my brother! _Said the niggling voice in the back of his mind. He was hyperventilating, he put his hands on his knees and tried to breathe.

"Dean?"

He started, Anita had appeared behind him.

''Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, are you all right?"

He shook his head. He couldn't fake it, not right now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam sighed, got up and followed Dean. He wished he knew what the hell had gotten into him. Had he always been this unpredictable? He needed to go into town and get some supplies for the summoning ritual. It would give Dean time to cool off too.

He stalked around the small lobby. A few couples were laughing and talking near the door. Sam tried to avoid them. He saw the kids from earlier with their parents. A big man and a small woman. The youngest was looking at him from behind his father's legs, he didn't want the kid to draw the man's attention to him. So he slipped around the corner to the empty reception desk. Anita was busy somewhere else and the desk was unattended. He stole a look at some of the papers that littered the desk, a book caught his eye.

He picked it up and opened it. Scanned the first few pages, Then smiled.

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Dean wasn't sure how he'd gotten inside, but he was now sitting at the kitchen table, there was a glass of something in front of him. He drank it, whiskey. _Score one Anita!_

"You want to talk about it?" Asked Anita. Pouring him another.

''It's nothing.''

''It doesn't look like nothing.''

'' I... Just fought with my brother, it really is nothing.''

'' I thought he was your business partner''

'' Er...'' Dean fumbled, _moron! how could you slip up like that._ ''He is. Both...Family business.''

''That so?''

He couldn't read her expression . _Shit! _He hoped he hadn't blown it.

'' We used to live in each others pockets, since we were kids really. He... Ah, we were separated for a year and just got back together a week ago... Things... Aren't the same any more.'' He explained hurriedly, wondering why the hell he was spilling his guts to a stranger.

''You were close before.'' She said, sitting opposite him. It wasn't a question.

''You have no idea, It was probably unhealthy actually.''

''Love is never unhealthy, Situations are unhealthy.'' She said categorically. ''Is he your younger brother?''

''Yeah , four years.''

''I'd have guessed more.''

Dean smiled ruefully. "Ouch! I don't look that much older do I?"

''No. More your manner with him. You're protective. I saw it at breakfast. He's clearly having a hard time with people, and you step in so that he doesn't have to talk to them.''

_Huh hadn't thought of it like that_. "Sweetheart, I didn't do sutch a bang up job of protecting him. I mean, I tried, before but... I guess he felt he needed to make his own decisions and... I let him... He's been through hell because of that."

''You blame yourself?" She asked. Dean nodded. He jumped when she reached across the table and took his hand.

" When things happen you can't control, sometimes you blame yourself so that it makes sense. So that you have some illusion of control." She said softly.

" You seem to know what you're talking about.'' Dean murmured, unable to look her in the eye.

''I do.'' She said. ''I know what it's like to be responsible for someone's safety. But to have no control over what happens to them. Over the years, I've learned the psycho babble to explain it, but in the end the guilt never really goes away.''

''Do you have siblings?''

''I did once. Back in Germany, I had a baby brother.'' She said, her voice was steady but when she poured herself another drink , Her hands shook. ''Eight years younger than me.''

Dean tried to smile, to reassure her so she'd talk.

"Baby-sit much?"

"Oh believe you me, I was practically that boys mother. " She said, smiling to herself, a faraway look on her face. "I'd have done anything for him."

" Know _that_ feeling." He whispered.

He looked up from his drink. She was looking at him, her eyes shiny with tears.

" You don't know how lucky you are, you have him. He may be damaged but at least he's alive." She whispered.

"I take it you weren't so lucky?"

She shook her head. "He died in the war." She swallowed her whiskey. "When I was Eleven."

"I'm sorry."

She continued as though he hadn't spoken. "I don't know why, I guess It's my husband dying but I'm _feeling_ it again. My brother's death I mean. I had put it away, buried it for years and... " She swallowed back tears. " Now , out of the blue the grief is back. I... Sometimes I even think I _see_ him."

Dean froze. "See him?"

"I know, senile old woman right?" She laughed mirthlessly. "I used to see a lot of things, when I was younger, that weren't there. Shell shock. PTSD they call it now."

'From the war?" He asked, trying to probe without asking outright. She just nodded.

Dean patted her hand, he looked down at her arm, the sleeve had fallen back to her elbow. He took note of the faded number he saw there.

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Sam sat on a chair in the hallway outside room 137. He looked at the print on the wall, it was a ship. He wondered if it was a good picture or not. Art didn't move him like it used to.

Presently a girl in her early teens ascended the stars and skipped down the hallway. Her auburn pigtails bouncing. She knocked on the door. "Helooo?" She called. "Mr and Mrs Simmons? I'm here."

"They're downstairs." Sam said. The girl turned with a sharp cry. Slamming herself against the door.

"Jesus!" She gasped, her hands on her mouth.

"Don't be scared." Sam said, using what he hoped was his sweet, comforting expression. "I just want to talk to you April."

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Dean considered his options for a moment._ Tell her the truth, or play her._ He didn't know why but he was tempted to be honest with the old broad. He Saw something in her. Something he hadn't seen before. He knew, somehow that she'd understand.

He didn''t tell her, but he didn't question her either. He knew she was connected to the boy and he knew how. Fact was that a very large part of him just didn't want to know the story. Dean Winchester had enough horror to last him several lifetimes.

So he let her think she was crazy and said nothing at all. They sat in silence until the bell at reception rang and Anita left to attend the desk. At which point Dean departed for the library. He knew what to look for now.

Night came slowly to Ludlow, darkness dripping like ink over the treetops. The stars came out. Sam waited for is brother in their room. At about midnight he considered feigning sleep, but he'd had enough of that over the last week. Eventually he heard the door click and Dean entered the room. He swayed slightly. Drunk. He looked surprised to find Sam still up.

"Where have you been?" Asked Sam.

"Out, researching." Dean said. Eyeing Sam strangely. "Then I found a bar." He admitted. "I think I got a lead on our little ghost though." He said, flopping down on the bed.

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked. "What did you find?"

"Well... Our hostess came to the States as a refugee after the war. Changed her name, her real name is Adela Nathan. I'd probably have changed it too if I'd been her... Something safer." He zoned out for a moment. Staring at his feet.

"Dean!" Sam jolted him out of his daze 'Get on with it."

"Anyway..." He continued. "Adela was 15 years old when she was admitted to the country. She was part of a contingent of refugees that had been freed from Auchwitz." He rubbed his temples. "She had a brother Sam. A three year old brother. He didn't make it out. Pretty sure that's who we're dealing with."

"Do you have his name? We could use that to summon him."

"Summoning him won't achieve anything Sam."

"Wh... I don't get it? I thought we agreed..."

"We agreed nothing Sam! The Kid's three years old, he was probably starved to death in a concentration camp! I don't think there's anything he can tell us!" Dean snapped. "I didn't agree to anything!"

"Jesus Dean calm down. It was just a suggestion. What crawled up your ass anyway?"

" You want to know Sammy?" Dean slurred. "I've just been up all night finding information I got from a number on someone's arm! Some 11 year old girl's tattooed fucking arm!"

"So?" Sam frowned.

"So?" Dean repeated back to him. "SO Sammy! I'm not in the best mood, its not rocket science!"

"Well maybe this will put you in a better one." Sam smirked, throwing a navy notebook to Dean. Dean missed the catch and it landed on the floor. He picked it up and read the sticker on the front.

"Baby-sitting book?"

"Took it from reception." Sam said smugly. "It's a record of all the baby-sitters and which nights, and room numbers they were working."

Dean raised one eyebrow "And?"

"I found the link between the three dead girls." Sam replied.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks so much for the responses guys. You're amazing.**

**Chapter 5:**

"They all baby-sat here?" Dean asked, flipping through the book.

"That principal didn't know what he was talking about." Replied Sam. "He said they didn't know each other. Look at the back of the book, they had a kids crèche here over new year and all of them were running it."

''So? Anita says half the girls in town baby-sit here."

"_Four_ of them were running it. Dean. Check out the last name."

" Allison, Ginny, Carly and... April... That's the girl who was looking after that Gerry kid!'

"Yeah I know I already spoke to her." Sam replied.

"Y... You did?"

"Yeah, I told her I was a private detective working for Ginny's parents." Sam smirked. "Kid swallowed it whole."

"And what, as a PD, were you trying to find?"

"Oh I made up some crap about trying to find out why she killed herself... I showed her the book and she admitted to knowing all three girls, in fact they were BFFs."

"So how come no one seemed aware they knew each other?"

Sam shrugged. "Carly was on the pep squad, Allison was a Goth... Ginny was a hippie. April is a math fanatic. They'd be pilloried for hanging out together at school. I guess the hotel kind of..."

"Levelled the playing field." Dean guessed. "So... Allison Burke, the first girl to kill herself did it back in Spring. Why?"

Sam grinned. "Here's where it gets interesting. Allison kills herself, no one really _knows_ why," Sam waved his hand dissmissively . " Anyway she ODs on her mom's sleeping pills. One night, a month later, there's a big family wedding party at the hotel. The other girls are baby-sitting for three sets of cousins staying up in the big suite, the kids are asleep and the girls all gather in one room to watch TV. Then Carly takes out an ouija board ."

Dean's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "To try and contact Allison? "

Sam nodded. "I'm guessing they either summoned the boy, or something else that created a psychic scar... Like the one at our old house, that enabled him to move in."

"What did April say happened?"

"Oh." Sam looked suddenly awkward. "I um... I think I must have scared her."

Dean rolled his eyes. "So you blew the one decent lead we have on this? What the hell dude! "

Sam frowned, considering something.

'Well..." He said finally. "I wouldn't say _blew it_ exactly..." His eyes wandered to the bathroom door.

Dean followed his gaze. "Sam?" he said apprehensively, getting up and opening the door to the en suite.

"SAM!" Deans voice was panicked . "What the hell have you _done!_"

In the bathtub, unconscious and propped up on a cushion, gagged and bound with duct tape, was April.

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"Ok... So if I take this off you won't scream right?" Dean said softly to the terrified girl. She nodded vehemently.

''She fainted... I didn't knock her out.'' Sam explained from the doorway.

"Sam get out of here you fucking idiot!" Dean snapped. Sam retreated out of sight.

Tears dripped over the edges of the tape making it hard to grip. Poor kid, how long had she been in that tub?

Dean pulled off the tape as gently as he could. April gasped. He expected her to scream bloody murder but she didn't. Her voice was tiny and rough.

"P... Please don't kill me!" She begged.

"Hey!" He put up his hands. "I told you the score ok." I'm not going to hurt you, neither is that _moron_ out there. I just need you to understand what's going on."

"I want to go home! " She whimpered miserably.

"Yup, for sure kiddo. As soon as I've explained the situation. Now what I'm going to tell you is going to sound crazy but it's true, and I think you know it. Me and him" He indicated the door. "We hunt things. Things most people don't believe are real."

The girl's eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"Now we know about you and your friends. What happened to them and what you did with that ouija board, right now we need your help to fill in the blanks."

He wouldn't have thought it possible for the girl to look more spooked, but mentioning the ouija board hand done it.

"I... I didn't _want_ to use the board!" She began. "I was there, in the room but I just watched!"

"What happened April?" Dean pushed.

She whispered, looking at the bathroom walls as though they might hear her. "Um... We saw... Things, there was This big mirror on one wall and it fogged up. The room got real cold... We... There was..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "A little boy standing there. Just for a second, then he disappeared. We were so freaked we couldn't speak. We just... Sat there quietly. Then the parents came up and we left."

"You went home?"

"Yeah, Ginny's Dad came and took us home." She said softly. "But... Well, Carly wasn't the same after seeing the little boy."

"Did he say anything, or do anything to her?"

"N... No but he followed her home." April whispered. As though she were confessing a terrible sin. "She saw him everywhere after that. He would appear in her room, night after night, crying for his mom... Then the dreams started.''

''What dreams?'' Dean felt a chill up his spine.

"There was a man... In a white coat... He was a scientist I think, he had a clipboard he was... Experimenting." She shut her eyes and hid her face in her knees.

"You're having the same dreams aren't you?" Dean said knowingly. You _all_ had the dreams. You all saw the boy one after another didn't you?" He'd worn out his luck. She wouldn't talk any more, just sobbed quietly.

Dean sighed, reached behind her and cut the tape off her wrists. Then lifted her out of the tub and carried her into the room. Her eyes widened in fear when she spotted Sam, sitting on the windowsill. "It's ok sweetheart." Dean murmured. Putting her in the chair. He handed her a bottle of water from the fridge. She eyed it distrustfully.

"April. I know this is hard but you have to tell me what you saw." He said firmly.

She sniffed. "He was testing..." She said awkwardly.

"Like medical tests?" Asked Dean.

She nodded. "Kinda."

"Like Animal Testing?" Sam piped up.

Her voice was barely audible. "No... He... He was using... P... People."

Dean felt sick. "People?"

"Yeah." She whimpered. "Carly said she couldn't tell her parents 'cause it was so fucked up they'd have her committed. She wouldn't even write it in her diary." April's lower lip trembled and she started to weep again. "I'm next. I know it!"

"How long since the dreams started?" Asked Dean

"A few days... I haven't seen the boy but I know it'll be soon and then I'll go crazy and k.. Kill myself!"

"That won't happen sweetheart'' Dean said. Crouching in front of her "I promise."

"How do you know?"

"Because those other girls? They didn't have us watching their backs." He smiled at her. "No ghost has ever got one over on us!" He lied.

"Can I go home now?'' She asked cautiously.

''Will you blab and have us arrested?" Asked Sam.

The girl shook her head rapidly.

''I'll drive you home.'' Dean said tersely, not able to make eye contact with his brother.

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'' But...''

"I mean it Sam. Get out of my sight before I start swinging!"

"She was _fine_ Dean! It's not like I hurt her! We got the information we needed, she gets protection from whatever the hell this is... Everyone's happy!"

"Everyone's _happy?_" Dean repeated, hardly able to believe his own ears. "Sam you _terrified_ a little girl! You made her _faint._ Then as if that wasn't bad enough you kidnap her and tie her up! Can you imagine what she must have thought was going to _happen?"_

"Nothing worse than what would have happened to her if she hadn't talked to us."

"You mean talked to ME Sam! You used to be the one I could count on!" Dean hissed furiously at his brother, who leaned back in his chair and watched Dean pace the room. with an infuriatingly calm look on his face.

"Well... I guess that was the old me." Sam said curtly. Then, just as suddenly, he got sincere. Like someone who'd never actually felt sincerity but had seen it in the movies.

"I mean. Dean I care, I _do_ I'm just... I just want to get the job done you know? Before more people die. To help them."

Dean wished with every fibre of his being that he could have believed that.

"Looks like I'll have to clean up this mess solo then... Again."

Sam frowned "Says who?"

"Says me." Dean said angrily. "I'm gonna have to crack this thing without you, seeing as you're obviously incapable of rational thought."

"Come on Dean, it's not that bad... We can make a start on fixing the problem... Save the girl. That's why we're here remember?"

"Yeah... Yeah I guess that's something." Dean shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. " The boy said he wanted his sister right?"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking! He latched onto adolescent girls. Maybe trying to pull them to the other side."

"Well... If Anita's the sister we... _I_ ... Will have to talk to her..." He rubbed his temples. "In the morning."

Sam reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Go to sleep Dean, you'll fell better tomorrow."

"You should sleep too."

"I will... Just go to bed ."

Dean didn't feel any relief. He sat down on his bed and stared at the wall. The booze from earlier catching up with him. Sam was clearly humouring him. He watched Sam as he tapped away on his laptop. Researching God knew what.

His attitude to the whole situation was wrong._ Sam, _frightening little girls, making toddlers cry, offending people left right and centre? Not to mention the fact that the horrific nature of the deaths didn't seem to affect him at all. Had hell burned the compassion right out of him?

It was possible , he supposed. Sam's compassion had been both his biggest strength and weakness. It had defined him in so many ways. Dean was convinced It had been the thing that had allowed him to shake off Lucifer, if only for a few seconds. It would make sense for Lucifer to want to tear it out of him. Dean shuddered. He must have been _so_ angry.

When Dean had gotten out of the pit he'd felt raw, sensitised, everything _hurt_. He'd felt everything more intensely. It had made him weak.

Sam looked unbreakable sitting there, focused. The blue light of the screen illuminating his hardened features.

He couldn't keep his eyes open, he lay back on the bed and let sleep drift over him. Dreams be dammed.

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_Bad choice of words._

_"No! No please!" A very young girl in a skimpy paper gown was cowering in a corner. She wasn't speaking English but somehow Dean knew what she was saying. _

_"Please no more! Please!" She whimpered, trying to retreat into the white, tiled floor. Her bare feet slipping in blood. A man was standing over her, he smiled, and made a note on a clipboard. Dean couldn't see his face, but he knew who he was._

_Dean's dreams of Allistair usually entailed his own torture, or on a particularly bad night on the torture Dean had performed under his tutelage._

_This was in a setting he had never seen before. Mundane and Earthly. It looked nothing like hell. The man looked nothing like the demon's other vessels but it was definitely him. After forty years you get to know these things._

_The girl struggled to rise to her feet and doubled over in pain, clutching her lower stomach. The man laughed, and kicked her feet out from under her. She landed on her side and lay still, her breathing laboured. Then she looked up, her eyes were huge and so full of pain that Dean thought he might die right there._

_"Please kill me!" She begged the man. "Please!"_

_He laughed again and turned away from her. He opened a white door and left the room with a serene smile on his face._

_The girl lying on the floor began to sob, then scream. Clawing at the bloody tiles._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

It was 6.30 am. Sam had learned all he could about spirits influencing suicide. He was still unclear on how a ghost could 'follow someone home." So he went back to the Holocaust. He hacked an ancestry site and found Adela Nathan's emigration papers. He looked up the Shoah foundation. He watched footage of the Nuremberg trials for eyewitness accounts.

If Sam could have been worried he would have been. He wanted out of this place. Dean was starting to _see_ him, for real. One thing was for sure, if they were confronted with atrocities like these and Sam didn't react. Then Dean would _know_ something was seriously wrong.

He remembered how he would have felt before, reading through the case histories. The bile would have risen in his throat at the descriptions of torture and cruelty. He would have been repulsed and horrified buy the sheer, organised scale of the killing. He would probably have been crying right now.

Sam remembered the painful burn of emotion. Almost like a physical pain... But not. It would be useless to try and describe it, like explaining the colour spectrum to a person who'd only ever seen in black and white.

Then there were the good feelings. The flutter in his chest the first time Jess had told him she loved him. That warm joyful feeling when Dean had bought him to a bowling ally on his twelfth birthday, and let him win.

He looked over at his brother, who twitched and moaned in his sleep. Tears began to leak from under his eyelids.

In the past he would have woken him, he would have been unable to research while Dean suffered like that.

He turned back to the screen. While Dean shifted and cried out in his sleep. His struggles getting more and more intense.

Suddenly he sat up, panting. His eyes wide and frantic.

"Anita!" He cried out.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6:

Sam had re read the girl's files a dozen times. He still couldn't figure it out. He remembered nightmares, he'd been afflicted with them his whole life. After Jess died he'd even thought he was going crazy for a while, but he had never actually considered suicide. It didn't add up.

Dean thrashed around on the bed, moaning, then shot upright shouting Anita's name. His eyes wide and panicked. His breath coming in gasps, as though he'd just run a marathon.

_Yeah_ thought Sam. _That's what they'd been like._

Sam met his brother's eyes for a moment. "I can't figure it out." he said. There's no way a ghost could follow anyone anywhere without some remains to latch onto."

Dean didn't reply, he rubbed his temples and lay back on the pillows again. Unable to get the images out of his mind. He turned and looked out the window. It was light out.

"Sam?"

Sam grunted a response, still immersed in the files.

"Were you up all night?"

"No, course not." He murmured. Then stopped scrolling and stared. Clicking back through the files.

"Dean look at this!"

"What?" Asked Dean, getting up and looking at the screen. Three pictures. Three pretty little girls. Their whole lives ahead of them. Smiling.

"This is Carly." Said Sam. Indicating with the mouse. Wrapped around her wrist on a chain was a gold locket.

"Now look at this one." He pulled up a picture of Another girl. The same locket around her neck. The third wore it as well.

"You think its the same necklace or did they each have one?"

"It looks old." Sam observed. And these were recent pictures. Which would mean the thing passed from one girl to another."

Dean sighed. "Is it a school day?" He asked

"Yeah, why?"

"Lets go talk to April."

"Agents." Said Principle Adams awkwardly. "April has never been a trouble maker..."

"Just like three other kids we could name." Growled Dean. "Send her in, we need to talk to her... Privately."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that. School policy."

Sam flashed his badge. " We're the F.B.I. Maybe you've heard of us?"

A little while later April sat in front of them, her lower lip trembling as she looked at the four pictures on the desk. While the principle hovered nervously outside the glass door.

"I guess we didn't tell anyone cause I thought they'd think less of her. She didn't steal that much really and I never found out where it came from."

"So you guys wore it to... Honour her memory?" Asked Dean. The girl nodded.

"You thought wearing something she _stole_ would honour her?" Sam smirked. April flinched, she was still afraid of him.

" Sh...She always wore it. We thought it would help us remember her... But... I don't like it. It kinda creeps me out."

"It Does?"

"Yeah, I mean... It has someone's _hair_ in it."

Dean and Sam looked at each other.

"April?" Asked Sam. "Where is the locket right now?"

'I put it in a box on my dresser." She said softly.

Dean smiled at the girl. "Ok, tell you what kiddo, Give us your house key and we'll take care of the thing. I'm betting that after that the nightmares will stop."

April Breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you." She whispered. Dean patted her head and got up to leave.

"She said it was like hell." The girl murmured. Dean turned, surprised.

"What?"

"Carly. She said after a few weeks that she wanted to put her own eyes out so she'd stop seeing him, and the things he did. I... I don't want to feel that way."

"You won't." Said Dean decidedly.

Sam paused as he gathered the pictures from the desk considering something.

"April?" He said, taking another photo from his briefcase, holding it out to the girl. "I printed this out today, just out of curiosity... Is this the man from your dream?"

The blood drained from her face, her jaw suddenly stiff. as she nodded. Dean glanced at the black and white picture and knew that his face had taken on the same hue as the girl's as he saw the dead eyes staring back at him.

"S... Sam!" He stammered, his voice sounding thin and reedy to his own ears. Who is that?"

"Josef Mengele." Said Sam matter of factly.

"Dean's mouth dropped open. Images of an ageing Gregory Peck flashing through his mind. "'Boys From Brazil.' Mengele?"

Sam nodded.

"How did you...?" He couldn't take his eyes off the picture. That was the face Allistair had worn in his dreams. It raised questions, questions he wasn't sure he wanted answered.

"Just put two and two together, Auchwitz, doctor, experiments, it's not exactly hard to figure out." Sam shrugged, slipping the picture back in the case. Seemingly totally unaware of the effect it had on April and Dean.

_Could it be? _Dean wondered. He tried not to think about the bastard's small talk. The friendly chatter he'd kept up as he'd sliced into him. _Poland_...He thought._ I remember him talking about Poland._ He swallowed bile at the memory of Alistair's voice. It would make sense... Those kids had taken their own lives to get away from the mere_ imagery_ of his work. That kind of horror was more than most humans could muster.

What did that mean For all those who were unlucky enough to cross his path for real? Evil springing from human nature he could handle, even if it did result in genocide. He at least could accept that it was the result of insanity . But if the Grand Inquisitor of Hell had been able to roam freely and abuse innocent humans on their own turf...

Anger began to boil behind his eyes. Boy was he going to have some questions for Cas...

"Dean?" Sam had been talking but he hadn't heard him.

"W... What?" Dean asked distantly, something insistent pricking at the edge of his awareness.

"Dude? Come on! Lets get to April's house."

Dean stopped walking halfway down the hallway. His lips moving silently, Then he raced for the exit. Sam hardly had time to react.

"Dean what the..."

"It's not her!" Dean said, practically pulling the door off its hinges in his haste. Sam followed him as he ran down the corridor in a frantic effort to reach the parking lot.

"Not _who_? What's wrong?" Asked Sam, hurriedly following him.

"Not April." Panted Dean as he took the stairs three at a time. "Not the one Cas was talking about."

"So stupid!" He muttered as he started the Impala and backed backed out of the space. "Right in front of us the whole time!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Anita had woken that morning at dawn. With the absolute knowledge that this was her last day on Earth. She sat in the kitchen, the window was frosted over, on the inside.

She felt relieved in a way. Maybe a little sad. She cleared a circle of frost and caught sight of the street sweeper on the sidewalk. Soon the staff would be arriving to cook breakfast. One of them would find her.

She looked across the room at the spectre of her brother. His emaciated body shaking with cold. She had given up trying to talk to him. He didn't seem to see her. He asked for her though. Crying out in the same keening tone he had used on the day they'd been taken away.

She wondered for a moment what kind of person she'd be today, if she had reacted differently that day on the front lawn. If she'd run and left Freddie behind. Maybe she would have been hidden at a neighbour's house. No. She wouldn't have. She knew that no matter what else changed, there was no world in which she wouldn't have gone back to her brother.

She had been so good. Had stayed for her husband, he knew about her depression, he'd offered comfort and support through the darkest times and that had kept her going, but the horror had never truly gone away.

What would Freddie be like now? She wondered. Trying to ignore the vision of him in the corner. He had her father's dark hair and eyes. He would have been handsome, like all the men in her family were... Had been. There were none left now.

She got up and turned on the gas oven. Butane would put you to sleep, she had heard. A kinder death than her family had suffered. _Does this make me a coward?_ She wondered. She decided it didn't , if only because she had fought against the urge for so long.

When the three girls had died earlier in the year she had been so angry. Here were three healthy, middle class, educated girls living in comfort and they had the _gall_ to throw their lives away like that? After she had fought and fought and done so many unspeakable things to keep her pathetic body alive.

Now she wondered what the fuss and effort had been for. What kind of life had it been anyway? _At least I didn't let them win._ She thought. _At least this is my choice. _

She lay down on the floor with her head in the oven, just beside the gas outlet. She told Freddie not to cry, that she was coming.

The last thing she was aware of before she passed out was the sound of running feet and the kitchen door bursting open.

Then nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7.**

Anita slowly became aware of her surroundings. She was sitting in an overstuffed chintz armchair. There was a faint crackling noise, she realised there was a fire. The drawing room.

She didn't use this room, never had. She had no memories of her husband and her sitting here in the evenings. It was a cold, sterile room, for show, not for living in.

But it was at the back of the building and private. The door had a lock and the fireplace warmed it nicely. Her vision swam a little as she tried to focus her eyes on the figure before her, The younger man, Sam, was waving a hand in front of her face.

"Quit it Sam!" Scolded Dean from where he sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. Sam shrugged and went to sit in one of the other chairs. Dean watched her from his spot. The look on his face a picture of pain and cold anger. She wasn't sure if it was directed at her but she knew she didn't want it to be.

"Should have seen it." Dean chastised himself. "Here we were cursing Cas for being obtuse and he'd practically put us down right in front of her."

"Maybe we should..." Sam began.

Dean cut him off. "No! "

"So what do you suggest we do? Pack her into the impala and take her to Bobby's?"

"I need to talk to her." He said. To himself more than to Sam.

"You think talking is going to fix this?" Sam said, sounding surprised. "I guess I'll leave you to it then." He said getting up to leave.

Dean suddenly snapped to attention. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

"Out. You need to talk to her, then talk. You handle the case solo from now on, remember?"

" Sit down and shut up! You're staying." Dean said emphatically.

"Er Dean I don't think I..."

"Sam!" Dean snapped "Cas gave us _both_ this... Chore, and I'll be dammed if you're getting away Scott free! God I'm_ sick_ of the Angel's bullshi..."

"Shh!" Sam hushed him. Realising that Anita was looking at them now rather than just staring into space.

"Anita?" Dean said, sitting on the foot stool in front of her chair. "We need to talk."

The old woman looked past him at Sam. A curious look on her face. "Adela?" He tried.

Her real name got her attention. She finally focused on Dean.

"How do you know my name?" She croaked.

"I know a lot of stuff." He said softly.

"Who are you?" She asked. "Why are you here?"

"We... We're people who... Understand. We deal with stuff most people try and Ignore... You won't believe this but we were sent there to help you. "

"Who would want to help me?" She whispered.

"You'd be surprised.' Dean countered, with a sigh. " I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"You told me, you said you'd seen your brother and I let you think you were going nuts. Truth is. I saw him too. We both did."

"Is that true?" She asked Sam, who was standing now, way too close to the door for Dean's liking.

"Yeah." He said. "We saw him."

She shut her eyes and turned her head away. "Why did you save me?" She asked quietly.

"You think I'd just leave you with your head in the oven?"

"What gives you the right?" Her voice cracked. "I _chose_ to go! You had _n_o right."

"Maybe not." Said Dean. Staring her down, "But if you make _that _choice, you're in no condition to be making choices at all lady."

She laughed. "Is that what you think? I don't believe you! You want nothing more than to have peace. I can tell!"

He looked away. Scanning the carpet.

"You do don't you?" She said. "I could see it, when you walked in. I can see torture. It's in the eyes." As she spoke she looked at Sam. He looked right back without breaking eye contact. "Sometimes." She concluded.

"Yeah well I have a feeling we have more than couple of things in common sister." Dean said regretfully.

'What exactly do you think you know Dean?" She snapped. "Maybe you know my name but you don't know anything about me! No one does!"

" I know you were in Auchwitz, that you lost your whole family there, that you came here after the war."

"You saw my tattoo. You remembered the number and found that information! What kind of scam are you running?"

" You think trying to save your _life_ was some kind of scam?" He smiled sadly.

" You might be able to dig up some old records but you don't know a damn thing! " She spat. "There are things I never told anyone. Not even my husband."

" Of course you didn't." He said softly. "You were ashamed."

She was about to respond with rage. How dare he presume to know? But he put up a hand and lowered his voice. Speaking slowly and deliberately.

"I_ know_... Adela. When someone does enough twisted stuff to you, you start to feel like they're twisting _you_. I know about the cutting, the burning" He paused and looked away. "The...The other...Stuff... That could tear your soul out of your body."

As he spoke he took her hand, and his eyes filled with tears... And just like that her distrust fell away. She couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but listen to his cracking voice.

"The worst part though... The worst part is when he'd make you feel like you had a choice, make you feel like you were _helping_ him, because at least when you thought you had no control there was a part of you he couldn't touch. But when he had you at his heel, begging to do his will... Then you really were_ his."_

"De wisse Engel." She breathed. She didn't know how, but she knew that's who he meant.

Dean turned to Sam, who was propping up the opposite wall. "Mengele." Sam explained. "They called him 'The White Angel.' 'Cause of how he..."

"He stood on the platform." Anita finished for him. "In front of the gates in his white doctor's coat. I never saw the resemblance myself. We called him the "Angel of Death." Anita whispered. Tears dripping down her cheeks. " He did bring death, every time he walked into the yard... Dean... How do you know?"

"Do you believe in the Devil Anita?" He asked in all seriousness. She thought for a minute before replying.

"No."

"No?"

"If there's a Devil... It would explain... Well a lot. But if there's a Devil then it follows that there's a God."

"You don't believe in God." It was statement not a question.

" There can't be a God." She stated simply. "There just can't."

Dean bit his lip, as though he wanted to say somthing and then thought better of it.

Anita was succumbing to the flood of memories. She had tried so hard to shut away.

"I've always been able to read a person by their eyes." She said suddenly. Dean stiffened. Suddenly wary. " The SS." She explained. "They were sociopaths. That's how they chose them, did you know that? They made them strangle their dogs, to show their loyalty. See who was cut out for killing. Well, there are sociopaths and there are sociopaths... Some of them, most of them, thought they were doing a great service, were so proud they they had been chosen to serve the Fatherland in such a way." She made no attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice.

"Not Mengele though." He said softly.

"No... He wanted them to think that he was making great strides in science, that he was winning the war against genetic inferiority one experiment at a time. But..." She swallowed thickly. " He didn't care about any of that there were no _ideals_. There was no science to the things he did. there wasn't even any intention of that kind. I could see it in his eyes. He was just like a child pouring boiling water on ants." She shuddered.

"But they never physically changed?" Dean asked again.

"No? Wh... Why would you ask me that?" She wondered.

"I... Never mind." Dean said. Suddenly interested in the carpet.

"He's dead...Has been for over 40 years."

She started, surprised that Sam had said anything. Dean, clearly, wore everything on his sleeve. Emotion hung around him like a vapor. But his brother was as hard to read as he was easy. When She looked in Sam's eyes she couldn't sense anything.

"So?" Dean threw irritably over his shoulder.

"So." Sam frowned, as though trying to solve a puzzle. "Why do you care? I mean, Dude's dead and gone and never going to hurt anyone again. Why the snot and tears?"

Dean turned on his brother, a look of disbelief on his face. "Jesus Christ Sam!" He yelled, throwing his arms wide. "If you're going to be an asshole maybe you _should_ leave!"

Sam seemed nonplussed. "But I..."

"Just...Get out! I'll meet you at April's later!"

The taller man shrugged, he didn't seem particularly chastised. He left the room. Dean paced for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"He's right." Anita said softly. "Dead and gone and yet he still follows me wherever I go."

Dean continued to pace, with a slightly hysterical laugh. "Trust me... Being dead...That is no obstacle to causing a world of trouble... Actually, the dead can cause a lot more damage than the living. "

"Of course." Anita said dreamily, scrutinising Dean's face for a lie and finding none. You saw Freddie."

"Yeah...Little guy was looking for you."

She nodded. "I tried. I really did. I promised him I'd keep him safe. I held onto him all the time I tried to keep him with me as much as I could but... I was only a child myself and... It was... We were in hell." She shrugged. There was no other way of putting it.

Dean stopped pacing and stared at her. Silently urging her to continue.

"One day Mengele came into the Children's block." She said "He used to come sometimes and take twins away... He liked twins." She shuddered, whispering in a stilted way, as though each word physically hurt.

"He drew a line on the wall in chalk. about three or four feet off the ground... They made us line up against the wall... Then he stood in front of us and he s... Said..." She sobbed suddenly. "He said that anyone smaller than the line was to come with him and he... He would take them to s... See their mama."

Dean swallowed convulsively.

"Anita...Y...You know that there was nothing you could have done right? If you had tried to stop them they'd have killed you."

"Then I could have died trying!" She cried. "He looked right _at _me. Right at me as though he was asking me what to do, and I screamed at him to run! Then Mengele walked over and knocked me down with the butt of his rifle, and took my brother away. "

There was silence in the room, just the crackling fire and the sound of erratic breathing.

He remembered my face. I know it. He came back for me later."

"Oh _God_... Anita..."

" He liked me... I mean not as much as he liked twins but... I don't know what it was about me... I couldn't have children because of the things he did to me."

Dean cringed visibly, but he was determined to hear her out. "Then..." She continued in a shameful whisper. After a while I thought He'd get bored and kill me like the rest, but one day he came into that white room and said he had a job for me... That he needed a... nurse. He said I had to help him in his work, to hold bowls and clean up and..." She couldn't continue. Closing her eyes tight against the memories.

"I couldn't help any of them." She whispered, tears dripping off her face. "I did everything he told me to do."

"Of course you did." Dean said, His voice sounded close, she opened her eyes to find him crouching in front of her.. " You had no choice."

"The worst part was that... Whenever I watched... The things he did.", she shuddered. "I always wondered...' How did he kill Freddie? Electrocution ? Burning? Cutting? Poison? Infection? Was that what you did to my little brother? "

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.

" I guess I have my answer now." She said. " He was put in the freezer."

Dean ducked his face into the woman's shoulder and shut his eyes. He didn't know how long he held her as she wept, but after some time he broke away.

"Come with me sweetheart," he said in a slightly horse whisper. "Lets set him free."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8.**

Dean reached April's house to find Sam already there. He'd turned her room upside down in his haste but he'd found the locket and dangled it in front of Dean's face with a self satisfied smirk. He opened it and a lock of brown hair fell out onto his palm.

"My Mother's Necklace!" Cried Anita, rushing to get a look at it. "I lost it months ago!"

Dean jumped at her sudden interjection, then took the gold chain from his brother and looked at the photograph inside. A serious looking little girl with dark hair and eyes. _Pretty little thing._

" How do you want to do this?" Asked Sam.

"Wait a minute Sam." Dean murmured. " An... Adela did you have this with you in the camp?"

"No. I found it in our old house after the war." She explained. "My mother had hidden it in the wall. That's my hair inside."

"_You_r hair?" He raised an eyebrow. ''You sure?''

"Yes, mine. Why?"

Dean ran his hand through his own hair. "Um... Its just that... Usually with this kind of thing it's the person's remains that are keeping their gho... Them around." He explained. Your brother has been following this necklace but... Well it isn't _his _hair.

"So... got your zippo?" Sam asked. Twirling the lock of hair between his fingers.

"No! Sam... Just wait man...''

"Dean..." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sam!" Dean warned. "I said _wait_!"

"What's going on?" Asked Anita staring at them nervously.

"I just don't get it! Dean replied. Why was he following _your_ hair?"

Anita thought about it for a moment, she sat down on the bed and stared at the lock of hair in Sam's hand.

"I think..." She said finally, in a soft voice. "I think maybe I asked him to."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked. "You've been talking to him?"

"No... At least, not recently." She said. "But... Well. On the day they freed the camp..."

_Adela had lain on the same dirty mattress for five days, diphtheria had swept the hospital and the moment she felt the pain in her throat and dizzy feeling of fever she'd known she was done for. She wondered if he had infected her deliberately or if she'd picked it up from on of the 'patients.' The funny thing was, she felt a deep sense of relief now. She wondered absently why he hadn't walked down those stairs days ago and shot her... Maybe she was an experiment?_

_She drifted in and out of conciseness. Sometimes she'd imagine feet on the stairs and draw her knees up to her forehead. Sometimes she'd see Freddie standing in the corner, crying, and try to comfort him. But it was hard to speak, hard to breathe._

_She focused on breathing, shallow huffs of hair... Just a few more' she thought, just a few more.' She was frustrated by her body's strange desire to live._

_Then there was noise. And feet on the stairs. 'This is it' she thought._

_The flashlights blinded her, she tried to move away from them but her lungs wouldn't let her. Her swollen throat closed and she began to choke. Her body panicked and thrashed around but she , herself, felt calm, calm enough to knew that the hands now lifting her off the bed weren't _his_ hands._

_"Another one!" A voce cried in English._

_"Dammit! Another Dip case... She won't make it." Sadness, shock, regret._

_"We can't !" _

_Tears fell on her face. She was aware that the man holding her was crying, she opened her eyes, fascinated. She'd never seen black men before they were both young, about 18. _

_''I know buddy. We can't help them all.'' The other boy said, squeezing his companion's shoulder._

_The boy was rocking her now, the other boy, behind him, began to pray, and as her straining lungs gave up. She turned her eyes to the corner and smiled at her brother, who waited there for her._

_Suddenly the expression on the young soldiers face changed. He stopped crying and looked up silent for a moment, as though he was listening. He stared into space, then nodded once. His anguish was replaced by an expression of serenity. He put a hand to her throat and the pain disappeared. Then there was a light and, just for a moment, She was warm and safe, and very greatly loved. _

_''Larson? Larson!" Wh... What happened? What did you do? The other boy stared , open mouthed. Larson looked up with a faraway stare._

_I... I don't know! I...I don..." He looked down at her and his face lit up with joy. ''She's breathing! ''He laughed in relief. "C'm on lets get her out of here!" He lifted her gently and wrapped her in his jacket. _

_The GI carried her out of the darkness, shielding her eyes against the light with his hand. Suddenly Adela began to scream, Her voice weak and thin. Her frail body thrashing against the teenaged solider who held her as though he was handling a bird. She reached into the Darkness crying for her brother, repeating over and over ''Freddie __komm mit mir!__!'' She couldn't leave him in this place alone, he had to come with her._

_"Freddie!" _

_"There's no one down there sweetheart"_

_"Freddie __mir nach!__!"_

_"It's ok sweetheart, you're going home."_

_She had called him and called him to follow until finally her weakened body and mind gave way to sleep._

" I guess he did follow. Well he followed _Adela_. Then I changed my name, my appearance. I left that part of myself in Europe."

"All except that lock of hair." Dean finished for her. "So you were dying then? And healed somehow?"

She nodded. " Strange... I never remembered that before... I never... That boy. It was as though, just for a few seconds he was someone... Something else."

''Like what?" Asked Sam, curious.

"Like me." Said a low voice. They stated at Castiel's sudden appearance. Anita cried out in shock.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean shouted, clutching his chest.

"What about him?" Asked the Angel earnestly.

"What the hell are you doing here? Are we going to get some kind of apology for this wringer you put us through?"

"Wringer?"

"This! This _case!_ What the hell were you thinking you bastard?" Castiel actually took a step back in the face of Dean's fury as the man ranted. " I mean, you send us out here with no clue what we're meant to do and you set us up to fail! I... I just..." Deans eyes were swimming with tears.

The Angel flinched. ''I am sorry Dean. I gave you a responsibility that should have been mine. The failure was not yours." He looked over to Sam, including him in the statement.

" You're wrong." Dean shook his head. ''The moment you sent us out here you made this our problem." He indicated Anita, who sat stock still on the bed, her eyes moving rapidly between them.

" No Dean." It was Sam who spoke, quietly and calmly from where he sat on the desk in the corner. "It was Cas's fault.". He fixed the Angel with a steely gaze. "Where the hell were you?" He asked without inflection.

" I had other matters to attend to." Cas responded.

"No Cas. I mean where the hell were you _then_?"

Dean's head shot up at that and he looked at Cas questioningly. Castiel looked at Anita instead and said nothing.

''Well?" Dean demanded. It's a good question Cas. While six million innocent people were living Hell on Earth were were the forces of Heaven huh?"

"Dean...I.."

"No! You give me an ANSWER GOD DAMMIT!" Dean yelled, moving toward the Angel, who flinched. "You tell me where you were while these demonic sons of bitches turned Earth into their own private Disneyland!''

"I Was there!"

Castiel actually sounded defensive. '' I was there Dean. A whole garrison was there. We thought , as you did, that there was demonic involvement. And there_ was, _in upper levels of government. We assumed the slaughterhouse they'd built was a demon playground. But... Dean We were under orders not to interfere in human destiny, and that's all we found."

"What?" Dean stumbled and sat down on the floor in front of the bed. Sensing Anita's terrified and confused presence behind him but unable to look at her.

"Humans,'' Castiel continued. ''Granted, some of them so evil that they were well on their way to becoming demons before they were even dead. But humans none the less."

"So... Allistair wasn't..."

Castiel sighed sadly and looked at Dean with a strange expression on his face. "It wouldn't have taken a human like that very long to rise up the ranks in Hell. The man may have_ become_ him. I don't know. But Dean...I tried. I was afraid of punishment, of disobedience. I know now I didn't try hard enough."

"Did you heal her?"

"Yes. Against orders. I found that I couldn't deny the boys prayer."

"You interfered in her destiny." Sam observed.

" I did.'' Cas said. ''And look what happened because of it. Four children dead because of her memories. A spirit trapped by her need for him, and a life destroyed by the experience."

" So why did you sent us to save her?"

" Because I was ashamed." He stated. " Shame, a human emotion. I suppose my time on Earth must have had some residual effects."

" Well you can save your shame." Said Dean . "It doesn't matter now anyway."

At this Anita finally spoke.

"I'm dead aren't I?"

Castiel walked passed Dean, glancing down at him with a pained look on his face. He sat on the bed beside Anita. Who looked more like a young girl than and old woman now.

"I am sorry. You succeeded in your suicide attempt earlier today. Your body is back in the drawing room of your hotel under a sheet." He said softly.

She nodded silently , got up and walked to the mirror. She leaned on the dressing table and looked into it.

"Jewish households cover the mirrors when someone in the family dies." She said, turning away. "I think I understand why now."

Dean looked up at the young girl who now stood in front of the mirror. Her dark eyes searching in vain for her own reflection.

''Anita I'm so sorry.'' He whispered, and bowed his head.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9.**

"Bring her back." Dean demanded of the angel.

'What?"

"Back to life, now." He said curtly.

"Dean! You know I can't..." The Angel began before being cut off by a thud, as Dean picked a book off the floor and threw it across the room.

"Why not Cas? Everyone else is doing it! No one around here can stay dead for five minutes! It's all the _rage!_" He shouted.

Anita's ghost had spoken then. Between the time of her death and her arrival at the baby-sitter's house she had morphed into a younger version of herself. A child in a yellow dress.

"Dean. I...I don't think I want that." She said softly.

"Well tough! He snapped. It's your only option. I'll be dammed if I let you check out early after all you've been through!"

"Wh...What do you mean?"

"I Mean you beat the bastards Anita! You beat them and now you're letting them win? After all these years?"

"I...I..." She stammered, at a loss for words, angry. "Why should I keep fighting? Just because I survived I should serve as some kind of example of the strength of the human spirit? This isn't an after school special Dean! It's real life!"

"NO!" He yelled, punching the carpet. "Real life is staying around and and living with it! Not escaping like a coward!"

"Dean." Castiel said firmly. "I won't bring her back. I've done enough meddling here already."

"I guess you have." Dean spat the words. "I just wish your meddling hadn't extend to us that's all." He said pointing at his silent brother, who had picked up the book that Dean had thrown and was flicking through it disinterestedly.

" I just wish..." He shut his eyes. "That we could have had the choice."

"To die you mean?" The angel took a step towards Dean.

"Yeah." Dean swallowed thickly. "Why should she get out early while we have to stay behind for detention? She pay more attention in class? That's it isn't it? The good kids get to go home early?"

"Dean you know that isn't true, you know that you and Sam are different."

Dean snorted at that and pointedly looked away from the Angel.

"Dean your destiny..."

Dean stared out the window and gritted his teeth. "I swear to God cas if you finish that sentence..." Cas didn't finish the sentence.

The ghost of ...Adela Nathan, crouched down in front of Dean.

"I don't blame you." She assured him. "This is ok Dean. I'm ready to go wherever I need to go, and take Freddie with me.''

"That's just it, '' He replied. Where do they go now Cas? Heaven? For suicides? Or downstairs?"

"There are...Other options." Cas said. At that Sam and Dean both snapped to attention.

"There are places, states of being in which a souls can be healed and prepared for heaven. It can be a long and painful process but it isn't hell Dean, nothing like Hell.''

Sam hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation between Cas and his brother because as they began to speak he became aware that they were not alone in the room. Shadowy figures had begun to gather.

Behind Adela's ghost there was now a couple, her parents he guessed. Eyeing the men coldly. The woman held a child in her arms, Freddie, he released.

Adela turned and gasped

''Mama!''

Then the other figures came into focus, Aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins. Friends and loved ones. Hundreds of them crowded into the small room. She ran to them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Six months later.**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Everything _hurt._

Each emotion, each feeling was like lemon juice on a wound. The sorrow of seeing a stray dog that morning, that would have given him a couple of seconds pause perviously, had him almost in tears now. When he saw the name 'Ludlow'' on the map only fifty miles away, he had suddenly felt a surge of... Something.

The funny thing about the human psyche is that no matter what damage is inflicted on it, no matter how horrific it is and no matter how terrible the consequences of knowing. It _does_ want to know.

He had to go and see, he knew how angry his brother would be. He'd kick his ass and Sam knew he'd deserve it, but God. He had to _know_.

He wondered how angry Dean would be when he arrived back at the motel. How hard he'd try and hide it. He never used to do that. Six months before he'd probably punch him in the face for walking out like he did. But now...Carefully carefully around Sammy. No loud noises, no extremism. Just incase.

Sam sat on a bench in a hotel garden. The last time he hat sat there it was summertime. He'd felt the warmth on his skin but he hadn't_ felt _it. He closed his eyes and pictured the garden as his had been that day. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, to leave well enough alone before the pleasant warmth of the sun got much, much hotter.

He was ashamed. He didn't know why. But he felt it constantly burning in his gut, shame. A human emotion, Cas had said... When? When had he said it?

The small town was flashing through his mind. A clock tower, this hotel, an old woman with a tattooed arm. A red haired teenager, shaking with fear. Dean pale and distraught, Dean demanding Castiel resurrect a little girl in a yellow dress. Dean waking from a nightmare with a scream, more terrified than Sam had ever seen him.

Sam hid his face in his hands, shivering in the sunlight.

_Why?_ He wondered. Why did he have to remember the name of the town? The memories came so easily it terrified him. They slipped though the wall so easily...

_No! better not to think about that._

''I thought you might come back here.''

He jumped at Dean's voice.

"Dean I..." He knew he should apologise. He looked up regretfully at his brother's worried face. He'd put that look on Dean's face _so many _times in his life, It wasn't fair.

"How much do you remember Sam? I could tell it was coming back to you when you saw Ludlow on the map and asked me about it.'' He sat down beside Sam. "What? am I going to have to avoid whole states now because you can't stop scratching?"

"Dean... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to I just..."

"You wanna know something Sammy? I'll tell you , you don't have to poke around."

"You will?"

"Sure." Said Dean, sitting beside him. "Shoot."

"Did I..." Sam swallowed. " Was there a little girl with red hair?"

"Yup."

"Dean did I...'' Sam gulped. It was hard to get the words out ...'' Please tell me I didn't hurt her... Did I?"

"No... No Sammy you didn't. You scared the crap out of her, but actually she was a win, we saved her!." Dean smiled .

"And the other one?"

"The other what?"

"The other little girl, the one in the yellow dress?"

"Dean didn't reply for a while, then shook his head. "N...No, we couldn't." He didn't finish his sentence.

Sam frowned. " Adela?" He questioned.

"Sam! " Dean reprimanded. "What did I tell you about digging? Stop trying to remember. I said I'd tell you the story OK?"

''Ok.'' he acquiesced, realising he was lucky Dean was giving him this much.

''We were sent here by Cas..."" Dean began.

By the time Dean had finished the story, the sun had begun to set and there was a real chill in the air.

"So then. Cas apologised again and zapped us back to our motel."

"I..." Sam began, unsure. " Dean I remember you."

"Me?"

Sam shut his eyes and shook his head sadly. I remember you... Devastated. You were falling apart and I just... He shook his head. "Man _why _did you stay with me?"

"That was the first time I really suspected it wasn't you, not really."

"Dean...It was_ me._" Sam sighed.

"We are not having this conversation again." Dean said flatly. ''Maybe you think it was you, ok I get it , you'll think whatever you want, but you'll dam well listen to me when I say this... I DON'T CARE! All right? I don't _care_ if it was _you_ or_ partially_ you , or freaking Santa Clause! OK? ''

Sam looked over at him in shock.

''The only thing I care about is that you're _back_.'' He continued, resolutely. ''_That. '' _He pointed his finger in Sam's face. ''_That_ is what keeps me going! _That_ is what stops me from backsliding right into The Pit Sammy! So do me a _huge_ freaking favour and stop risking your life because you feel guilty! ''

Sam couldn't speak, he was too busy staring at Dean's face, so full of repressed emotion that Sam wanted to scream on his behalf. Dean's own words echoed in his mind..._What I feel? Inside...I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing!"_

"You feel guilty as you_ like_ Sammy , you know how you can make it up to me? By _staying alive_." He sounded out the words as though he were speaking to a five year old.

"OK." Whispered Sam. Too choked up to talk. Stupid emotions, he was sure there must have been some upside to not feeling anything, emotions stop you from functioning, block you path. But God, the nuances and detail you don't see without them. The things you _miss_.

They sat in silence for a good five minuets, pointedly not looking at one another before Sam spoke, his voice shaking.

"It reminded you of Hell didn't it?"

"What did?" Asked Dean, staring into the hedge.

"The case. What happened to those kids. It reminded you of The Pit."

"Yeah." Dean breathed.

"You thought he was Allistair?"

"Maybe he was?" Dean whispered. "Doesn't matter now." He shrugged, "you took the bastard out. I ever thank you for that?"

Sam looked up into the sunlight and gulped around the lump in hs throat.

"I really don't want to remember Dean."

"I know." Dean acknowledged.

"And I'm scared to death." Sam admitted. "But... It's like, just because I can't remember it, doesn't mean it didn't happen y'know? I feel... Old." He took a deep breath. "And_ used_, and dirty and ugly."

The words came out in a rush. Dean's breath hitched, Sam blinked tears out of his eyes. "And so, so _tired_." He concluded. "And I don't know why."

Dean rested a hand on Sam's hunched shoulder, making him flinch. He stared at his shoes as Dean's deep voice vibrated down his arm.

"First! You might feel that way Sammy but it's not true. You know why? Cause I _saw _it. Your soul. Just before Death reinstalled it, and believe me. It was anything but ugly. Even after everything it's been through, Jesus the thing _shone_."

Sam was surprised, he hadn't thought about it before, he'd never thought to ask Dean what his sold had looked like.

" Secondly." He continued ''You don't need to know _why_ Sammy. Just accept that those feelings are there for a reason and they're not going away. You'll find a way to live with it, I promise."

Sam nodded, afraid to reply, afraid to _breathe_ lest he start sobbing and never stop.

"And I'll help you do it." Dean said decisively clapping Sam on the back "Now c'mon I told Bobby we'd deal with the _problem_ in the national park ASAP, lets get this show on the road!''

_**End**_


End file.
